


The Incautious And The Brave (Or how to win a hobbit's heart)

by Dawninn_Gamgee



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Divorce, Don't let Frodo into the kitchen, Feels, Flashbacks, Fluff and Smut, Frodo has nightmares, Frodo has nine fingers and hates it, Frodo is fucking oblivious, Frodo's Pancakes, Hurt/Comfort, Just read, M/M, Marriage, Pregnancy, Rosie is mad at Sam, i dont know how to use tags, merry and Pippin plotting, you will either love or hate Rosie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-11
Updated: 2015-04-04
Packaged: 2018-03-11 14:57:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3330224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dawninn_Gamgee/pseuds/Dawninn_Gamgee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam's marriage falls apart, and it hurts. But it doesn't hurt as much as knowing he is in love with his best friend... the one that will never love him back.  Will he?<br/>A story filled with feelings, drama, laughs, sexyness and tears.<br/>Will Frodo love Sam they way he wants him to? Or should Sam just try to work things out with Rosie?<br/>Merry and Pippin will definitely try to help Sam in order to win Frodo's heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello beautiful people! This is the first time I've ever translated one of my fics. I really like this story and I thought it'd be cool to share it here. Don't be too harsh on me, I'm learning :)  
> However, feel free to correct any mistakes you might find.

The night was dark, but it wasn’t silent. At least not in Samwise Gamgee’s bedroom.

“Almost there….” That was what the hobbit whispered over his lover’s neck. He couldn’t resist but kissing the person underneath him: it wasn’t tender at all, it was fierce, and lustful. He bit pale flesh. Sam was sweaty and exhausted… but very excited. Dammit, he was so turned on. With each of his thrusts, his lover wriggled and moaned, screaming Sam’s name and begging for more. It felt like heaven, and Sam didn’t think he would last much longer. He was about to finish. He started to mumble all sorts of nonsensical love words, as he always did when he was nearing his climax; he shut his eyes and then he felt it.

"FRODO!!"

He screamed as he finally reached his orgasm. His breath was ragged and he was panting, but man, did he feel good. He trembled a little as he tried to recover and come back to his senses. Sex always made him feel dizzy and light-headed. He swept aside his golden locks as a silly smile came over his lips. Frodo. At first, he had thought that what they had was nothing but a good friendship, a sense of mutual respect and understanding; but it wasn’t. Somewhere along the journey he had realized that he felt was something different, something deeper; something he didn’t quite comprehend. It took a while for Sam to understand his feelings, but he did. He was in love. He was totally head over heels for Frodo. But he never told him. He thought about confessing to him, but there was never a good moment for doing so. Frodo was being manipulated by the ring, and Sam’s only thought was to protect him. He just couldn’t tell him, not even when they thought they would die, laying on the skirts of Mount Doom, before the eagles came to their rescue. And that was because Sam was a coward. He had showed Frodo that he cared about him with his actions, but not with words. And it hurt. It hurt not being able to be by his side the way he wanted.

That was the reason he had been so… enthusiastic tonight. Like a revenge for all the time that he had wanted Frodo but couldn’t have him. Thruth was, Sam really did love Frodo, now more than ever. However, it might have been wiser to realize that before getting married and screaming Frodo’s name while laying in bed with his wife.

"SAMWISE GAMGEE!!" Rosie’s yell must have been heard all over the Shire. Her husband was still deep inside her, but she didn’t care: she pushed him out of the bed they shared with all her might. Sam fell to the ground, naked and disorientated. “Again?!” Rosie covered herself with the sheets, suddenly feeling humiliated and on the verge of tears. “You are… You are a jerk!!”

As we’d said before, sex always made him feel a dizzy and a little light-headed, therefore it took him a while to realize that the figure crying in front of him didn’t have pale-blue eyes… nor was she named Frodo. Sam swore beneath his breath, knowing it was too late. He had done it yet again. “Rosie! You… you didn’t hear right, I didn’t say anything… I didn’t say anything wrong!” He tried to justify himself as he attempted to climb back to the bed in order to calm her. Rosie, however, was no fool, and she was sick of him. So sick of him.

“Who do you take me for? Do you think I’m deaf? Do you think I’m stupid?” She violently threw a pillow at him. “It’s been half a year! For half a year I’ve been having to endure you screaming his name whenever you make love to ME! I’ve been having to endure you telling me that it was nothing, telling me that it won’t happen again! Do you think I like to have sex with my husband knowing that he doesn’t love me? Knowing that he might be beside me, inside me, around me… but that as soon as closes his eyes he imagines he’s with someone else... And a male on top of that! Not even a woman: a MALE!” She sobbed. “Maybe… if all this was because of woman I might understand and be willing to accept it… because I love you! Damn you, Samwise Gamgee, but I love you.” She opened her mouth to keep on with her yelling, but tears filled her eyes anew and her voice cracked. It was always like that.

“Rosie…” Sam crawled over the bed to reach her. “You know it’s not like that… You know just how special you are to me… and that I’ve never felt this way about any other woman before.”

She tried to supress her sniffles. “And about any other man?” She looked at him harshly then shook her head. “No, Samwise, don’t lie to me. I’ve had enough of this, enough of you.” Stumbling, she got out of bed and headed to the cupboard where their clothes were stored. She forced it open and started to toss around every single piece of clothing she could find in there.

“What the hell are you doing?!” Now it was Sam’s time to yell.

But Rosie yelled even louder. “What do you think I’m doing? I’m helping you pack! I want you to take all of your damned stuff and be gone! Now! I don’t want to ever see you again, I can’t stand you another minute!”” She kicked hard at the clothes scattered all over the floor.

“But… but you’re my wife.” Sam swallowed a knot of fear as he eyed her with his big brown eyes.

Rosie gave him a stern look. “I was. I was your wife. At least that’s what I tried to be while I was naive enough to actually think you could love me. I thought that you… would overcome that thing you feel towards… towards Frodo.” Her words were like poison. “But is over now, Sam. And just in case I wasn’t clear: I’m asking for a divorce and I’m kicking you out. Now… LEAVE!” She hurled a handful of clothes and him and ran out of the bedroom. From afar, he could still hear her crying.

Needless to say, Sam was in shock. He felt too overwhelmed to even move or react at all. He just stayed there, glassy eyes starring off into the distance, trying to grasp what had happened. Suddenly he felt cold and realized that he was still naked. “I ruined it.” He hissed as he looked among the clutter for something he could put on. He swore under his breath again, furious. “Congratulations, Samwise Gamgee. You just ruined your one and only chance to have a normal marriage and be almost normal yourself!” Mad as he was, he jumped onto the bed and laid down facing up.

“I’m such a git." He sighed.

And he would have stayed there all night and past the morning, dwelling on his stupidity, but a glass of cool water was poured on his face and it brought him back to reality. Rosie took him by his collar –showing that she was stronger than suspected- and pushed him out of bed yet again. “Get the hell out of here.”

Sam almost drowned in all that water. Gasping for air, he spoke back. “I have nowhere to go, you know that!”

“And I don’t care. For all that I care, you can sleep under a tree.” Her voice was ice and daggers. She took him by the wrist rather forcefully, her nails sinking deep into his flesh, deep enough to draw blood. “Better yet, why don’t you go to your dear Frodo and ask him to let you spend the night with him? Who knows, you might get lucky!” She dragged him across the hallway and then she pushed him out the door. Sam landed badly on his knees, his arm still aching and bleeding.

“Wait!” He begged from his spot on the ground. “My stuff. My clothes. I haven’t packed anything. Just let me take a few things and you’ll never see me again. I promise.” 

“I’ve given you plenty of chances already, Sam. Whatever happens to you now is none of my business.”

She slammed the door close, and Sam knew that he would never again be welcomed in there.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam goes to Bag End and asks Frodo for help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My english is horrible! I had just finished this translation when the whole chapter got deleted from my Ipad. I just couldnt believe it. I rewrote i, but... I know it's full of mistakes. Some help, anyone?
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoy it.

Standing outside of Bag End, Sam didn't dare knocking. It was late and he didn't want to disturb his friend's slumber, much less have to explain why was he there instead of home, sleeping with his wife, but he was cold, semi naked, wet and exhausted. He knocked three times.

At first, there was no reply. He thought about turning around and away: Merry or Pippin would surely help him. Or not. That was his train of thought when the door flew open and Frodo stood there, obviously confused by his presence.

"Sam...? Oh, dear, what are you doing here? Are you alright?" Sluggishly, he ran to him, taking in his appearance. His knees were scraped and his arm was bleeding, if only slightly. "What happened to you?"

"Mr. Frodo..." He tried to reply, tried to tell him what had happened and ask him for shelter. Instead, he broke into tears, crying for the first time that night. His knees threatened to give away and he lost his balance. Frodo caught him, embraced him and whispered soothing words in his ear. He had no idea of what was his friend doing outside of Bag End at such a late hour, but that could wait.

As Sam wept on his shoulder, Frodo took him to the living room, helped him sit on a couch, and then he tenderly kissed him on the forehead. Minutes went by before the blond calmed down and managed to articulate words into sentences. "Could I... Could I sleep here, just for the night, Mr. Frodo?"

Frodo smiled condescendingly. "You can sleep here as long as you wish, Sam. I'm eternally in debt to you, you shouldn't even ask." He placed one hand over Sam's shoulder. "But I'd like you to tell me has happened."

"N-nothing. It was nothing."

Daintily, Frodo lifted Sam's chin up so he could meet his gaze, looking directly into his eyes. "You know you can trust me with anything. I'll understand and be willing to assist you. I care about you, Sam. Besides, you won't tell me those scratches are 'nothing'. You arm is bleeding, do not think I didn't notice."

Sam felt distressed. He didn't know how much was safe to tell. In the end, he thought it was best to omit certain details. "I had an argument with Rosita. You know how things haven't been going well for us lately... Not since her birthday. We... We yelled. She asked me for a divorce." His eyes were red. "I don't have a home anymore, Mr. Frodo. I don't have a home. I don't have a wife. I... I don't have clothes. I have nothing..." His voice cracked. He didn't want to cry, but he couldn't help it.

"And this?" Frodo pointed to Sam's injured arm.

"An accident." He lied in between sobs. Frodo knew him better than that, so he remained silent in order to hear the truth. "I think Rosita got quite excited while kicking me out. B-but it wasn't her fault. She was not being herself."

Stating that she was upset would have been the understatement of the century. Frodo only nodded. He could picture the rest in his head. "Well then, first things first. Come here. We need to take care of those cuts. I'll clean them. Your knees also need a bit of tending. After we're done with that you'll take a shower and I'll put you to bed. It's really late, so we better discuss this in the morning."

Sam heatedly refused all of his offerings. "No, Mr. Frodo. I don't wish to cause you any inconvenience. If you could only... spare me a spot on a couch I'd be more than grateful."

His friend looked at him with great affection. "This is no inconvenience. You know, if it hadn't been for you, I wouldn't have survived the whole journey. In fact, I'm pretty sure I would have died as soon as I left the Shire." He joked half heartedly. "You saved me a lot of times, Sam. You risked your life because of me and you cared for me, even when my better judgment was clouded. It would never be an inconvenience to return the favor, although I know that a lifetime will never be enough to repay you."

The blue eyed hobbit took him by his hand and led him to the bathroom. He looked for clothes that would fit him and gave them to him, along with a towel. "Don't take too long, Sam. You might catch a cold." The blond nodded and complied. He closed the door, stripped down, and slowly submerged in the tub.

He was an idiot, the biggest idiot on earth. What had he been thinking when he asked Rosie to marry him even though his heart didn't belong to her? The answer was clear. He had been thinking of Frodo. He had been thinking that the best he could do was to forget him, get over him, and look for a better life next to someone who could actually love him. And that someone was Rosie, the barmaid... the girl with ribbons in her hair. The one he would have married. And he did. Because Sam once had feelings for her, but not anymore... not after Frodo. Not after all the things they went through together. Sam punched the surface of the water. He had been selfish. So utterly selfish. He had gotten married thinking only of himself, he had wanted to keep up the appearances. He never thought about her. He never thought of the implications. He had tried to love her, he really did try, but he could never ignore those pale blue eyes... He threw his head back and cursed, he wished he could die. He had ruin it all, specially because no other woman in the Shire would wish to marry him now, and because he knew Frodo would never return his feelings.

After torturing himself a little bit more, he finally got out of the bathroom, dressed in clothes that fit him in all the wrong places. He felt claustrophobic. It wasn't hard to guess that the clothes he was wearing were, or had been at some point, Bilbo's. "Mr. Frodo?" He called as he dried his blondish hair.

"Here, Sam." He followed the voice of his friend down the hallway and found him in what used to be Bilbo's bedroom... before his departure. 

"What are we doing here, Mr. Frodo?"

The blue eyed hobbit looked up and grinned, he was making the bed. "You'll sleep here from now on, or as long as you require it. I hope you'll find it of your liking."

Sam blinked a few times, dumbfounded. "No, Mr. Frodo. I thank you, but I just... I just can't sleep here. Mr. Bilbo wouldn't like it."

Frodo sat on the bed, arms crossed. "My uncle is in Rivendell. Last time I checked he was a happy hobbit with no intentions of coming back. I don't think anyone will mind if you just stay here." He bounced slightly up and down. "See? Soft and comfy."

Hesitantly, Sam sat on the bed as well. "You sure this is ok, sir?"

'It certainly is. However, if you feel such remorse at 'profaning' my uncle's bedroom, you might as well sleep with me, although I warn you that I have only one bed... And I snore like a dragon." He teased with a playful smile.

The blond couldn't help but blushing, even though he knew his friend wasn't being serious. "It's just that... I thought a couch would be okay, you know..."

"No, Sam. You're no servant and you're no stranger. You are my friend and you will sleep here whether you want it or not, Samwise Gamgee. And that's the last I'm going to say about it. Complain again and I'll have to tie you to bed!"

Well, it wasn't like Sam didn't like the idea of being tied to bed by Frodo... He flushed, realizing what he had been thinking and looked down. "No, that's alright, Mr. Frodo. I'll sleep here... It was only a suggestion."

The blue eyed hobbit grinned. "Perfect then!" Pleased, he strolled to the door, but before going out he turned around to look at him. He looked concerned. "Rest, Sam. We'll discuss whatever happened in the morning, okay? Anyway, I know Rosita will eventually come to her senses and forgive you for whatever is you did. You are adorable, my friend, and I know no one can stay mad at you for a long time. If you agree, I'll talk to her in your behalf, but as of now... just sleep." He turned off the light. "Good night."

Sam felt exhausted as he fell on the mattress and thought about the irony of life. At last, he chuckled bitterly.

Like Rosie wanted to listen to what Frodo -of all people- had to say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh. I still dont know how to use AO3.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam wakes up in Bag End and Frodo makes him breakfast. They talk about the night before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, new chapter! I really hope you like it. I had a lot of trouble translating this one so... please tell me if you find any mistakes, PLEASE. I know I always say that but I really don't trust my english :(

The bed was soft and the covers, warm. Sam stretched out as the first rays of dawn made their way through the open window, warming up his face and announcing the beginning of a new day. He yawned, reluctant to leave his little nest of comfort. Slowly, the hobbit managed to sit, ignoring the way the covers seemed to pull him in... Even the birds, with their morning singing, seemed to tell him that there was no hurry: the day ahead could wait... if just a little longer.

Finally, he opened his eyes, only to discover that he wasn't home. He looked around, startled. Where was him? And why? It took him a while to remember the night before. All the weight of what had happened fell upon his shoulders like a ton of bricks: Rosie, their little argument... and he being kicked out. Frodo. It hurt. It all hurt so much, but Sam didn't know what hurt the most. He didn't know what to do, and he didn't know how to handle it. All of his wife's accusations, along with her tears and yells, were still spinning in his head, like a maelstrom. He understood that last night could very well have been the end of the relationship he thought could save him. Even though Rosie's behaviour and reasoning had been completely right, Sam knew that it wouldn't be easy to just let her go and move on. Even if he didn't love her, a marriage was a marriage, and divorces were a rare thing in the Shire, where relationships were supposed to last forever. He sighed. Things would be easier if he at least knew that he had a chance with Frodo... Frodo. He looked down, trying to collect his thoughts. It was too early for mortification and self pity... Besides, he was going to have plenty of time to feel like a martyr later on; he was sure of it. Which meant: first things first.

Quickly, he got off the bed, put on some clothes and combed his messy hair with his fingers. Bilbo's clothes fit him no better than day before, which was an understatement, since neither him nor Frodo were his size. His arm and scrapped knees looked much better than the day before; luckily for him, they were only scratches. He wondered if he should make breakfast... It seemed only fair after all. Before he could make up his mind, he heard familiar footsteps, along with the jingling sound of plates and spoons and silverware. Was that...? Could it be...? No, it couldn't be, it surely couldn't be... But it was. Sam ran to the kitchen to confirm what he suspected. Frodo was awake. Cooking. He wore a pink apron around his waist and had a spatula in his hand.

"Good morning, Sam. I thought you would never wake up." Frodo smiled as he turned over what seemed to be an indistinguishable mass of burnt flour and eggs, unknown to any hobbit, man or elf ever to step on Middle Earth.

"Mr. Frodo, you... What do you think you're doing?" Sam starred at him in awe.

His friend removed the pan from the heat and looked around for a plate on which to serve the abomination he had made. "Well, 'good morning to you, too' would have been a nicer greeting."

The blond felt his cheeks redden immediately. How was he supposed to win Frodo's heart when he couldn't even greet him properly in the morning? "I'm so... truly sorry!" He apologized, a little more enthusiastically than necessary. "It's just that this... all this..." He waved in the direction of the table, where many different servings -of what Sam could only guess was breakfast- were served. "All of this..."

Frodo raised an eyebrow. 

"All of this... for me?"

"That's right, my friend! And I hope you like it; I put a lot of effort in it. I woke up early today..., and well, I know I am no chef but I thought that a good breakfast would suit you just fine." His friend showed him a seat, and Sam sat almost absentmindedly. "Besides, pancakes weren't that hard to make." The mass of burnt flour and eggs had another opinion.

"Mr. Frodo..." Sam looked at him like there was no other creature on earth half as kind as his friend was; he was even willing to overlook the fact that the food seemed to have a life of its own, like it was about to flee the table at any given moment. Even more so: he was actually willing to eat it. "It's such a honour, sir, and I feel flattered... but there was no need. You shouldn't pamper me this much, sir. I don't mean to cause any inconvenience. From now on, I'll be the one to cook."

"Nonsense! You are my guest, Sam, and I shall treat you as such. Therefore, please, feel at home and at ease. Bag End is my home, but is also yours whenever you need it." Sam was speechless. His friend took a seat next to him, looking a little bit anxious and maybe far too thrilled. "Now, have a bite!" He commanded, grinning widely in Sam's direction. "I wish to hear what you think of my cooking. The truth."

Sam swallowed hard. As much as it pleased him to wake up to breakfast, he wasn't sure whether THAT would make it down his throat. Sam offered him a kind smile. "It tastes delicious, sir. I don't need to try it to be sure of it. Just... knowing that it was you who made it is enough for me. You, sir, are an outstanding cook." What Frodo had called a 'pancake', seemed to be breathing evilly on top of the table. 

"Come on, Sam, don't be shy. Eat! And don't be afraid to eat them all. If you do, I can always make more!" He chuckled. "I think I already got the hang of this cooking thing."

The blond looked at his plate, looked at the pancake. Was that... was that an eye? Sam shuddered. "Well, Mr. Frodo, here we go." He tried to smile as he took a mouthful of the pancake, all the while trying to think of more pleasant things... like Frodo's wide blue eyes looking at him eagerly... waiting.

"So?" His friend pressed. "How is it?"

"It's... d-delicious, Mr. Frodo. I think I might cry." And he was about to do so. The pancake was burnt on the outside, but raw on the inside. It wasn't crispy enough, and it was way too salty. It was sticky. At least, the blond was still alive. "I need water." The pancake had gotten stuck somewhere along his gullet, refusing to go down all the way to his stomach, where the acids would finally get rid of it.

"Well, is it that good?" Frodo looked more than pleased. "I don't have any water left, but I made juice. I know you'll love it." From a jar, he served some kind of unrecognizable liquid... its colour making Sam sick. Not to mention that small bits of... things, were floating in it. "Drink." His friend offered.

Again, Sam tried to smile, even when the pancake stuck midway. "D-do not worry, Mr. Frodo. B-better save for later."

"Oh." Frodo couldn't help but look disappointed, and his face fell slightly. "I guess you are right; we better save it for later. That way, we'll have something to drink at lunch!" His eyes lit up once again, and Sam knew he wasn't going to get rid of Frodo's food that easily, but it didn't really matter, because he would risk getting food poisoned if it meant Frodo would smile as open-heartedly as he was smiling now. And if that was his only reward, Sam would even ask him to make breakfast every morning, and supper every night. Or not. He coughed several times as he patted his chest repeatedly, still trying to down the pancake. Sam wondered how could Frodo live all by himself if such were his cooking abilities.

"That'd be wonderful, sir."

Frodo was beaming with happiness. "You know, I might try new recipes tomorrow... Bilbo left me a whole book somewhere in here, he was a great cook, to tell the truth; but I had never ventured to try his recipes before. But now, you'll be the first one to try them! Isn't that great, Sam?"

Poor old Sam didn't know whether or nor should he feel thankful. "Well, it certainly is, Mr. Frodo. But I'll help. After all, I'm an excellent cook; Bilbo himself taught me a few things back in the old days. And I'm especially good with pastries. Rosie used to say that I made the best pastries in town."

Rosie.

Frodo soon adopted a more serious, concerned expression. "Sam, I... Well, about Rosie... I know I told you that we were going to discuss what happened in the morning, which is... right about now, but if you don't feel like it then I'm not going to push you. For what you told me, Rosie was not being herself when she kicked you out, therefore, do not fret, my friend. I believe that the best thing we could do is to go talk to her, once you feel like it, of course. I'm sure that if we both speak to her... she'll understand." Frodo patted him lightly on the shoulder. "She'll understand, Sam. You'll see." He was trying to be reassuring, but his words weren't doing anything to calm Sam down. "So... Do you wish to talk about it? Sam?"

Sam didn't wish to talk about it. Last night, he had cried like a toddler when he had understood... And he didn't want Frodo to know, no. He couldn't know. He couldn't know that it was him -him!- who had caused Sam's breakup, albeit unintentionally. The blond didn't know how could he tell him what had happened without revealing more than he was willing to. It was a tricky business. And it was too... intimate, not to say embarrassing. Sam bit his lower lip. "I... I don't know, sir. It's...-" He sighed. "A whole awful lot of things happened. One moment I was just there, with her, and we were okay. More than okay. We, uhm, we were in bed. Not sleeping, but... w-well, you know what I mean, Mr. Frodo. Anyway, we were in bed and I... I said something that upset her. I said something wrong, Mr. Frodo. Very wrong", he concluded, just as he felt his cheeks start to redden. He had never openly talked about his sexual life, much less to Frodo of all people, but he tried to stay cool. After all, that was what a married couple was supposed to do, right? Even though, Sam didn't really fancy Frodo imagining what he and Rosie did in bed.

"That was it?" Frodo tried not giggle, but failed. "Well, you know... things like that happen. It's not like I want to pry into your private life, my friend, but... sometimes... the sex drive of a couple isn't equal. Especially when it comes to positions or certain practices that one of them might find odd or—"

Sam was red to his ears. "No! That wasn't what happened, Mr. Frodo. I mean... It did happen, but not... Not like that! We had no problems because of that. If you must know, our sexual drive is pretty much equal. I can go three times in a night." Somehow, Sam had managed to make things worse. "I mean...—"

"Three times?!" The blue eyed hobbit was impressed. "Well, I don't understand why Rosie is complaining!"

"Mr. Frodo!! W-we are not discussing that! The point is, that I said something wrong. I... I was about to, ehm, finish... when I, uhm," Sam cleared his throat, feeling his face burn, “when I screamed someone else's name." There it was. He’d said it; although he hadn't been completely honest about it.

"Oh..." Frodo's face became serious with understanding, and he nodded briefly. "Now I get it. Her reaction was... only logical; I can't actually blame her. Speaking of which, how is your arm?"

Sam didn't bother looking. "It's alright. It was only a scratch."

Frodo sighed a long sigh. "Sam, Sam, Sam! I know I said that Rosie would forgive you, but I’m not that sure now. She must be FURIOUS, and she’s right to be. I’d be if I were her!” He rose from the chair and paced around the kitchen. “I think you should wait a couple of days before trying anything... Let her calm down. Being apart will help you both sort out your feelings, or so I think. After that, we’ll go talk to her, if you don’t mind me coming along. In these past few months I’ve grown fond of her, and I’m sure she’ll appreciate my insight of the situation.”

Sam didn’t trust himself to reply. He looked at his feet.

His friend went on. “I don’t understand what possessed you to do something like that. I mean, after all you went through to be with her... Sam, you love her. That much I know. Just think of it! You, Sam, almost died in Mordor; you joined a suicidal quest to destroy a ring; you travelled to lands where no hobbit has been before... and yet you came back to her. Your feelings for her are real, even if at the moment you might be... confused. I feel it.” He made a pause, and looked at him with gravity. “Tell me, Sam, is there someone else? Are you in love with another woman?”

Sam couldn’t lie to Frodo; he had never lied to him. That’s why he was glad when Frodo said “woman” instead of something vaguer. Sam shook his head vigorously. “I am not, sir. No other woman owns my heart.”

The blue eyed hobbit looked relieved. “Thank Goodness. I feared you would say the opposite. If that had been the case, god forbid it, you’d be a dead man by now, Samwise Gamgee. You and Rosie are made for each other.” He placed a hand to Sam’s shoulder. “What happened seems to me like a terrible misunderstanding, and a bloody awful mishap. Let her calm down, then go talk to her. I’ll be by your side should you need my assistance.”

Frodo’s friendship knew no boundaries, and that made Sam happy as well as it made him sad. He wouldn’t risk losing such a beautiful friendship, not when he knew that friendship was all Frodo could ever offer to him.

“I thank you very much, sir... You are always so kind to me.”

“Don’t mention it.” His friend smiled sweetly. “By the way, earlier this morning I spoke to Merry and Pippin; I told them that you were here. They wanted to come and say hi but they had other things to do at the moment, however, I arranged a little... gathering, tonight, just the four of us. It may not be the best of occasions but I thought a little fun with friends would suit us all just fine. It’ll lift our spirits! And I’ve never been married, but I can only imagine the way you must be feeling. Dinner with friends sounded like a good idea to me.” 

This time, Sam’s smile was heartfelt. “Good idea indeed, Mr. Frodo.”

His friend looked at the clock hanging on one of the walls. “It’s noon already. Would you mind helping me with lunch, Sam?” Frodo needn’t have asked.

“I’m always glad to help, Mr. Frodo.” The blond rose from his chair feeling upbeat. He hadn’t expected to feel this good just a day after his rather awful break up. “What do you have in mind?”

“Well, I haven’t thought about it, but… wait. Don’t stand up just yet!”

Sam complied, but he didn’t understand why. Frodo spoke before he could ask him.

“You aren’t done with breakfast.” The blue eyed hobbit pointed at his nearly untouched plate. Sam felt his stomach churn around.

"But it's almost lunch time..."

“And you haven’t eaten. After yesterday’s night you must be starving, Sam! I had breakfast earlier so do not worry about me.” A childlike smile formed on his lips. “Go ahead, it’s all yours.”

“I feel... honoured.” He mumbled. Frodo’s pancakes snickered among themselves and Samwise frowned. He hated when food made fun of him. “Ilúvatar, help me...” He whispered low enough for Frodo not to hear, and he looked up to heaven. He took a bite and immediately regretted it. And even though the pancakes weren’t the least better than they had been minutes ago, Sam couldn’t help but feel elated.

Frodo had make him breakfast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, leave a comment... it makes me happy :)


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